


Striptease in the North

by WendyNerd



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Prompt Fill, Strip Tease
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-05
Updated: 2015-07-05
Packaged: 2018-04-07 19:54:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4275939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WendyNerd/pseuds/WendyNerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt Fill: "Jon walks in on Sansa changing. She turns it into a striptease for him."</p><p>The Princess Regent of the North makes some demands when the Prince of the South walks through the wrong door.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Striptease in the North

A full five seconds passed at the very least before it occurred to Jon Targaryen that perhaps he’d gone through the wrong door. He’d meant to enter Bran’s chambers, hoping to confer with his brother-turned-cousin after the banquet about some matter regarding skin-changers. The new King in the North dwelled in the traditional Lord of Winterfell’s chambers, which just so happened to be right by the Lady of Winterfell’s chambers.

The same Lady’s chambers once occupied by Catelyn Tully Stark.

Now they belonged to her eldest daughter, the Regent of the North, Princess Sansa. The only remaining Stark whom Jon didn’t still feel brotherly affection for.

In the weeks since his visit began, Jon had experienced some very confusing, unexpected, and uncomfortable feelings regarding the famed Winter Rose of the North. Mostly because the dreamy, sweet, silly little girl he remembered was utterly gone. And in her place…

Well, was the woman before him. The woman who made the mission he’d been given by his Targaryen relatives—- find a proper Northern bride to cement an alliance with the North— a difficult one, considering he found it difficult to concentrate on the charms of other women when his cousin was around.

The one who had released her hair from the carefully arranged braid she’d worn at the banquet into a cascade of blood-colored waves that draped over her shoulders, back, and bosom. Who currently stood before a full length mirror with the bodice of her blue silk half-unlaced. The white linen of her corset, tied with blue satin ribbons, poked out, the tops of her pale breasts clearly visible. They rose and fell with every breath, just under her delicate collar bone and the long, elegant arch of her neck. His eyes traveled up, and it was only when they found her full lips falling open and a strangled cry emerge that he remembered himself.

“Oh gods! My lady, a thousand apologies!” Jon stumbled back, his body hitting the edge of the open door, accidentally slamming it shut.  _Seven Hells! No!_

His new House’s words were ‘Fire and Blood’, and Jon felt those things rush simultaneously to his face and his groin as he saw Sansa’s chest rise and fall more rapidly as her breathing increased, as he saw her skin flush a delicate rose. _No. Don’t think about that. Look elsewhere._

He looked at her eyes, wide and flashing and bluer than the clearest summer sky, and regretted it. Looking at her lips was a mistake too. Her hair, her neck, her waist. Jon tried to look at anything that wasn’t her but couldn’t.

Beyond that strangled cry, Sansa managed to compose herself with remarkable speed, pulling her bodice closed and clearing her throat. Sansa’s composure was part of the problem, though. It was her composure that allowed her to stare down veteran vassals thrice her age and size with a smile on her face and make them fall in line. The same subtle, impenetrable steel that made it impossible for Jon to think of her as a sister and instead notice the pleasant perfume that clung to her, the musical quality of her voice, the quickness of her wit, along with about a thousand other charms. 

And now, confronted with that open bodice, he was forced to think about the charms he’d tried in vain not to notice, like her shape. Before, he’d clenched his fists and scolded himself before he let his mind go too far concerning  his cousin’s body. But that one glimpse seemed to open the floodgates. Now he couldn’t help but think about the fullness of her bosom and how it must be. Or how her waist was so small and would be so easy to wrap an arm around so he might pull her to him for a kiss. Or the swell of her hips. Or how below all those skirts were long, long legs. Sansa was a tall woman, after all, and her arms were long and shapely, why not her legs?

 _Stop it. Stop it. That’s a lady. That’s Robb and Bran’s sister. That’s Eddard Stark’s daughter. That’s_ Lady Catelyn’s _daughter._ Jon half expected the ghost of Catelyn Stark to burst in at any moment and tear him limb from limb. And for some reason, that only seemed to increase the heat within him.

“This is most improper of you, Your Grace,” Sansa said softly, “Quite unworthy of a prince to charge into a lady’s chamber’s unannounced.”

“I know, I’m sorry! I meant to go into Bran’s rooms!”

“So you only came to see me by accident? Another insult.”

“I— Wait, what?”

Those full, pink lips formed a perfect pout. “Not a surprise. But then, you don’t care for me.”

“WHAT?!” If there was a more inaccurate way to describe his feelings, Jon couldn’t think of it. Sure, he’d tried to hide his regard for her, but Jon always got the impression that he failed. And it wasn’t like the princess regent was bad at reading people. “No, my lady, I—”

“Then why do you ignore me? When I speak to you, your responses always seem like a struggle. When I look at you, you look away.”

_That’s because I’m afraid you’ll catch me staring._

And it took another second for Jon to realize he’d said this out loud. “—-No! I mean—!”

Sansa sniffed. “—Oh, so you definitely don’t like me then. I do wish you’d change your mind. After all, if you did like me, you could finally honor your family’s wishes.” She sighed wistfully. 

Jon gaped. _She can’t mean…_ “What are you talking about?”

She fixed him with a sad look. “Explains why you don’t like me, if you think I’m so stupid that I don’t know why you came back to Winterfell.”

“Oh. I…” Jon looked at his feet, then looked up at her again. It was so hard to think. His mouth went dry. “But… Sansa… I never thought you’d ever want—”

“—If I wanted one of my brother’s status-seeking bannermen to cart me away from the home I rebuilt, I’d have married one years ago,” Sansa snapped, her tone suddenly incisive, “I don’t want to be with a stranger who sees me as a thing. You don’t see me as a thing, do you, My Prince?”

He cleared his throat. “I don’t see you as a thing. I see you as… as…”

“As what? A sister?” She started walking towards him, playing with the unlaced hems of her bodice.

“No!” He said, much too quickly. He took deep breaths. “As… As… I don’t know…”

“Would you like me to help you figure it out?” Sansa asked, still coming closer. “Perhaps I’ll tell you how I see you, if you can reveal the same. I’ll be happy to show you mine—” She began parting her bodice again, playing with the remaining ribbons, “—if you show me yours.”

Jon’s eyes became fixed on her hands, but he wanted to make sure she knew he was listening. “What would you like me to show you?”

She began unthreading the ribbons from the rest of the eyelets in her bodice, revealing more of her white linen corset inch by inch. The shoulders of her gown began to fall, revealing her milky shoulders. “Respect. Kindness. Gentleness.”

“All yours.” That was easy. _Who could show someone like her anything less?_  

She laughed and rewarded him by letting her gown drop to the floor, revealing her corset, a tissue-thin shift, and the undergarments underneath. White linen smallclothes covered her abdomen. White stockings tied with blue ribbons ran up from her toes to just above her knee. Jon swallowed. Her legs were long, so long, and just as shapely as he imagined: calves firm, thighs slim, ankles delicate. Her steps practically glided. Her fingers went to the blue ribbons of her corset, which was fastened over her shift.

“I thought so, Jon.” She played with the loop of a blue bow at the center of her garment, right between her breasts. “But I also want loyalty, understanding, and devotion.”

“Obviously. You must have all of that. Of course. You’d have no cause to worry. I’d never stray. And I’d make sure I knew exactly how to give you what you want and need and make you happy.”

Her face lit up. She began unlacing the ties there. “But you know, I’d also like strength. A strong chest to rest my head against and strong arms to hold me at night and make me feel safe. And strong, healthy children. For that, I need a strong, healthy man. Could you give me all those things?”

As she spoke, she was unlacing her corset down the front, but keep the sides close together. Jon swallowed. “Of course.”

“And someone who wouldn’t treat me like I was below him. Who would treat me fairly, like an equal. I won’t have some lummox making demands of me that he wouldn’t fulfill himself.”

Three seconds later, Jon’s doublet was gone and he was pulling his tunic over his head. When he emerged, bare-chest, he saw her corset was gone. But underneath the shift was a breast band. He nearly cursed. _How many bloody undergarments does she have?_  “That is unfair, my lady. You’ve fooled me. You’re making demands you won’t fulfill yourself.”

She laughed. “What demands? I made no demands. Neither of us have made demands.”

“You’re playing with me. I am bare-chested before you, but you—”

“—You still have me at a disadvantage, My Prince,” she told him, “So you are bare-chested. We both know I am still the more vulnerable in this situation. Let’s pretend for a second that you couldn’t easily overpower me if you wished. If someone were to find us here, like this, which one of us would be shamed? A man can remove his shirt without comment. A woman shows an ankle and is branded a whore. And I would remind you that you are the one who entered my chambers without leave, watching me undress without permission.”

Jon reddened. She was right. “My apologies, my lady.”

Sansa sighed. “I wish to feel safe, Jon.”

“Of course.”

She turned to face away from him. He sighed.  _She’s shedding her clothes for you, and you are so selfish you’re demanding she do it faster. Shame._  “Forgive me. I was selfish.”

“I may. Humility is something I also like to see,” she informed him, “I have trusted you this far, do not make me regret it.”

“I promise you, my lady, I shall do nothing, demand nothing you do not wish to give. You shall always feel safe with me. I swear it.”

 _It is my honor on the line._ At that moment, he didn’t care if he didn’t see another inch of flesh. That could wait. Trust was more important. 

“You’d honor me, no matter what?”

“Always.”

“What of love?”

This question was posed with a softer, less confident voice. Jon looked at her closely. She’d turned her head, and looked deep into his eyes, her gaze vulnerable, but hopeful. The composed mask was gone. This was fear and courage. 

“More love than you could imagine.”  _Gods, that face_. It was like a sunrise, her joy filling the room with light and warmth. He just wanted to spend the rest of his days in that light. “And you?”

She seemed speechless, but she nodded. Jon almost fell to his knees. He couldn’t stop staring. He could barely breathe, overwhelmed.

But then the reverie broke when, for a few seconds, that face, those eyes, that smile was blocked from view by a length of white linen. It was gone seconds later, but that was still too long. He came back to earth and blinked. Then he realized he could see her bare lower back, the back of her thighs, the outline of her backside under one layer of linen.  _Oh, right. She was removing her clothes._

Feeling it was only fair, Jon’s hands went to the lacing on his breeches. He nearly toppled over, stepping out of his boots. A small, musical laugh issued from her at this, and Jon grinned. The boots were soon gone, and his breeches were kicked away. He didn’t even think before moving to remove his smallclothes, but Sansa called for him to stop. 

Jon groaned. The constraint of his clothing grew more and more uncomfortable by the second. His body demanded release. _Maybe it would scare her._  That’s the last thing he wanted. So instead he tried to cover the tent in his linen with his hands.

“I don’t mind,” she said quickly, “It’s quite…” Her eyes went to the space between his legs shyly. “It’s nice. But I… I need to be honored.”

“Of course.”

“And by that I mean I need to be provided for, Jon. I am unwed. One marriage annulled. I am Princess Regent of the North. I cannot be seen as immoral. I represent our family, our realm. Everything I do reflects upon our lands, and has an impact. I have a responsibility. I cannot be foolish enough to let myself get carried away with a man who has not earned certain liberties.”

Jon nodded. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have expected…”

“I began this. But only you can end it,” she replied. “So tonight, you shall send a raven to King’s Landing telling the King and Queen in the south that, pending the permission of King Brandon of the North, you will wed his sister Sansa Stark, Princess of Winterfell. Tomorrow morning, you will put on your best clothes, have a fresh shave, and make a formal request to my brother for my hand, with promises that you shall lay no claim to authority in our realms upon our wedding. Then, after both Bran and I have given our formal consent, you shall formally begin to court me. After we receive permission from House Targaryen, we will formally announce our betrothal. Then you shall come every night to my chambers and watch me undress before bed. If you are as good and attentive a suitor as I deserve, you may be granted other liberties. And when we are wed, you shall find me as good and as enthusiastic a bride as you deserve.”

Jon gaped. “Yes… I think… I think I could… That sounds… Yes.”

“Good.” She smiled and came closer. Jon grunted. Her lips pressed to his cheek. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to grab her and pull her to him. When she pulled back, she was grinning.

“Yes, this is a perfect arrangement.”

**Author's Note:**

> Still taking prompts on tumblr, if you're interested. wendynerdwrites.tumblr.com


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